


records and shops

by SnowGhost



Category: Whiplash (2014)
Genre: Fluff, Gen, Jazz - Freeform, M/M, Music
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-04
Updated: 2015-03-04
Packaged: 2018-03-16 08:44:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 757
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3481760
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SnowGhost/pseuds/SnowGhost
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A small moment between Fletcher and Neiman as they go to a record shop.</p>
            </blockquote>





	records and shops

**Author's Note:**

> I didn't proof read this. Didn't edit it. So if you notice any mistakes, then idk, yell at me. 
> 
> Enjoy it though.

"Do you know what you're buying?"

"No."

"Then why go to the store if you don't know what you're buying?"

"It's about atmosphere, are you going to fucking nag me the entire time?"

"I'm just asking why-"

"Neiman, sometimes it's best to just absorb and listen."

"You don't need to-"

"You don't get it. Just fucking shut up. Please?"

The sounds of Cannonball Aderlay can be heard playing faintly through the speakers of the store. The song: The Stream Drill. Drums, high-hats, a sauntering bass line and an interjection of horns. Records upon records upon records line walls all over the store. The store itself isn't that big, in fact in comparison to most stores, it would be considered small. A man stands behind the counter, a record spinning behind him. A handful of people search through, looking for something, anything. Two men talk over by the hip hop section. A young boy with his father smiles holding a CD. To most people. this is a mom and pop store and nothing more. To Fletcher, this was home. 

Fletcher walks into the store, removing his hat and opening his arms wide. "Bobby how's the kingdom?" 

The man behind the counter looks up, smiling before jumping out of his seat, rushing over to Fletcher. A big hug occurs while Neiman stands back watching. Bobby looks over his shoulder to see Neiman standing there, looking around the store in a cross between this is cool and this is.... it? 

"This your son Fletch?" Fletcher laughs patting his friend in the, turning to face Neiman, who isn't even remotely paying attention. "No no. This is my protégé and friend Andrew. Andrew this is my good friend Bobby." It was the first time Neiman heard Fletcher refer to him as anything other than Neiman, _fucker_ , or Andy. Andy was even more rare, reserved for special moments between the two of them, when no one was looking and when no one was listening. Neiman extended his hand for a handshake. 

Fletcher walked over to the jazz section, fingering through records in alphabetical order. Aderlay to Armstrong to Coltrane to Davis to Ellington to... There was something in Fletcher's eyes that Neiman hadn't seen in a long time. Not since the two of them chilled out together over coffee after Neiman explained his romantic situation which resulted in Neiman crying on Fletcher's shoulder. It was a look of calm. 

Neiman roamed around the store, landing on the alternative section. He fingered through the bands he used to listen to before Jazz took over his life. Bands that he religiously followed while in middle school and in high school. He smiled lifting up the sleeves and examining them. Those were days of calm and peace. Those were days when Neiman cared more about following in the footsteps of Dave Grohl, Ringo Starr, Lars Ulrich and Travis Barker. Not Buddy Rich. Buddy Rich? Who was that? Neiman smiled at the nostalgia. He shoved it away and walked away from it. 

"How much for the haul Bob?"

"For you Fletch? On the house. If you help with the band. We're recording soon, would love it if you could come through." 

"Consider it done Bob." The two men shook hands. Neiman had made his way to the hip hop section. The music in the store was now playing something slower, quieter. If you're feeling sinister. Neiman stood and listened to the sounds of pianos dancing with fast acoustic strumming and the sounds of regret and misfortune. Belle and Sebastian. It was Nicole's band. He stood there listening. And there was a touch on his shoulder which jolted him awake. Fletcher stood behind him, a smile (another rare item) on his face. "Ready to go kid?" Neiman nodded and walked out of the store with Fletcher following, a puzzled look on his face. 

They entered into the car and from there, silence. Fletcher started the car. They drove away from the mom and pop store that Fletcher considered a second home and Neiman considered a place he would visit again in due time. Fletcher would drag him back for sure. Except it wouldn't be dragging. It would be voluntary. "You're awfully quiet." Fletcher's tone was soft, calm. 

"Just absorbing and listening." Neiman's voice trailed off, as he stared out the window. Then he turned to Fletcher, his eyes on the road. "Did you really mean that?"

"Mean what?"

"That I'm your friend?"

"Of course." He grinned while making a right turn. Neiman grinned too.

"Thanks." 

"No problem Andy."


End file.
